The Maverick of Copper Creek (12 page)

“That's old Percy. But younger. Without his glasses and wrinkles. I'd know him anywhere. And look at Pearl. You even captured the lace on her gown.”

“Percy gave me an old black-and-white photo of their wedding.”

Ash shook his head from side to side. “He's going to be a hero in his wife's eyes when he gives her this.” He held the box while she carefully arranged tissue around the sculpture before returning it to the container. “Do you have any idea what an amazing gift you have?”

Her eyes went wide with surprise, while the sweetest smile curved her mouth. “Ash, that's just the nicest thing you could say.”

“I mean it. You're amazing, Brenna.”

“Thank you.” She looked across the street. “The doors are opening. I'd better get over there and watch for Percy.”

“I'll go with you.”

They crossed the street and stood waiting until the couple walked hand in hand from the movie theater.

“Happy anniversary.” Brenna placed the white box in Percy Hanover's hands.

“Oh. What's this?” His wife, Pearl, as plump as her husband was lean, had soft white hair around a heart-shaped face that was still as pretty as when she'd been eighteen. Girlish eyes were dancing with excitement.

“All in good time, Pearl.” Percy turned to Ash. “My sympathy on the loss of your pa, son.”

“Thank you, Percy.”

His wife leaned close to press a kiss to Ash's cheek. “You tell your mama I send my love.”

“Thank you, Pearl. I will.”

“Now,” she said, turning to her husband. “How long are you going to keep me waiting to see what wonderful treasure our Brenna has made for us?”

“Patience, Pearl.” He turned to Brenna. “Did you remember to put that photograph in the box?”

“I did. You told me it was the only copy you had. So I made half a dozen copies of it for your children. The copies are all inside an envelope, along with the original.”

“Aren't you just a sweetheart?” He brushed a kiss on Brenna's cheek before taking Pearl's hand. “Come on, girl of mine. You'll get to open this after dessert.”

As the couple started away, Pearl was muttering a feeble complaint, but it was apparent that she was enjoying the suspense every bit as much as her husband.

Ash caught Brenna's hand. “How about a sundae at I's Cream before we head back?”

Brenna nodded. “I'd love one.”

As they started across the street toward the brand new ice cream shop, Brenna couldn't help laughing. “Don't you love the name Ivy gave it? I heard she originally planned on calling it Ivy's Ices, but then somebody suggested using just her initial, and it all fell into place.”

“Pretty clever. How's she doing with it?”

Brenna shrugged. “I think it's too soon to know. I'm sure she'll be busy all spring and summer, but once the weather turns cold, she'll have to come up with some other way to lure…”

They both looked up at the sound of a truck careening along the street and heading directly toward them.

The closer it came, the faster it raced, actually picking up speed instead of making any effort to slow down or stop.

Ash reacted instinctively, pulling Brenna toward him into a bear hug and leaping out of the path of the vehicle seconds before it blew past them, missing them by mere inches.

Ash managed to twist in midair, so that as they landed, he cushioned Brenna's fall with his own body. They hit the pavement with a terrible thud.

The truck continued on; the driver made no effort to stop and see whether or not they'd been hurt.

For long moments they were too dazed to move. Finally, when the world stopped spinning, Ash touched a hand to Brenna's face. “You okay?”

“Yes, thanks to you. How's your head?”

“My head?”

She framed his face with her hands and stared down into his eyes. “Oh, Ash, you took a terrible blow.”

Slowly, painfully, he sat up and touched a hand to his head, feeling the sticky warmth of blood. “It could have been a whole lot worse.”

Several people gathered around, anxious to help both Ash and Brenna to the curb.

Chief Ira Pettigrew pushed through the crowd and knelt beside them. “You two okay?”

“Yeah. No thanks to that damned fool driver,” Ash muttered.

“I didn't see it, but I heard the revved engine, and heard what other people told me.” He offered a hand to Brenna, and then to Ash, helping them both to their feet.

“This was no accident, Chief.” Ash stepped up onto the sidewalk, holding a handkerchief to his head. “That driver actually speeded up.”

“Did you see the driver?” Ira demanded.

Ash shook his head. “I was too busy trying to get us both out of the path.”

“If Ash hadn't reacted so quickly, we wouldn't be talking to you right now.” Brenna's voice lowered with feeling. “I'm certain of that, Chief.”

“I'd like you both to come with me.” The chief walked briskly toward his office up the street, with Ash and Brenna trailing along more slowly.

Once they were inside the police station, Ira marched over to his desk and withdrew a formal document.

“Tell me in your own words exactly what happened.”

As they spoke, he jotted notes in his distinctive scrawl.

Halfway through their narrative, Ash suddenly stopped.

“What?” Ira asked. “What did you just think of?”

Ash glanced at Brenna. “This happened once before. On the day I arrived in town. Brenna's puppy dashed out in front of my truck, and I stopped and got out to hold the dog until she came for him. While we were kneeling in the street a truck nearly hit us.”

“And you didn't think to report it?” The chief looked annoyed.

Ash shook his head. “I figured it was our fault for kneeling in the middle of the street. I didn't really think of it as a deliberate act until now.”

“And now you think it was?”

Ash slowly nodded as the scene played out in his mind. “Yeah. The more I think about it, the more convinced I am that it was no accident.”

“Was it the same truck?”

Ash glanced toward Brenna for confirmation. “It was dark. Maybe black. Older model, but it happened so quickly, that's about all I know.”

Brenna nodded in agreement.

Ira's tone hardened. “You got any enemies, Ash?”

“My first thought is Luther Culkin. He tried to attack me with a broken bottle the other night at Wylie's.”

The chief glared at him. “You didn't think to swear out a complaint against him?”

Ash shrugged. “It was a bar brawl, Ira. I came into it a little late, and I was as guilty of fighting as Luther. But he could still be carrying a grudge because he didn't get to carve up my face the way he was hoping to.”

“Luther had better have an alibi about where he was and who he was with when this went down.” The chief steepled his hands. “Anybody else come to mind?”

Ash shook his head.

Ira turned to Brenna. “How about you? Anybody out to hurt you?”

Ash looked stunned. “You can't believe this was directed at Brenna.”

The chief's eyes narrowed slightly. “You claim there was an earlier incident, and you were with Brenna when it happened. Now the two of you are together again, and it happens all over again. Who's to say someone is after you? They could just as easily be out to harm Brenna.” He turned to her. “So, can you think of anyone who would want to hurt you?”

She'd gone deathly pale. But when she looked at the police chief, her voice was strong. “No.”

He studied her a moment longer before giving a slight nod of his head. “Okay. So for now, our only suspect is Luther. I'll check on him right away. But in case that doesn't pan out, I'd like both of you to think long and hard about anybody in your life, whether past or present, who might want to see you harmed, and quite possibly killed.” He leaned back. “Now Ash, I want you to drop over to the clinic and have that head looked at.”

“Right.” Ash stood, and offered a hand to Brenna.

As they left the police station, they walked stiffly up the street until they came to the Copper Creek Clinic. Once inside they filled out the necessary papers, and were ushered into an examining room.

Minutes later Dr. Dan Mullin walked in.

The doctor still wore his shaggy brown hair in what the folks in Copper Creek called a bowl cut. It fell in wispy bangs over his prominent forehead. He stood no more than five and a half feet tall but was considered a giant by everyone in the town. He stitched up bloody wounds, treated everything from sore throats to tumors, from a ruptured appendix to a ruptured disc, delivered babies, and eased the dying over to the other side, and all with the same droll humor and dry wit that everyone in town admired.

“Banged your head on the pavement, did you, Ash?” He examined the wound before thoroughly cleaning and disinfecting the site. “Good thing you have a hard head. You'll need a couple of stitches, just to help it heal.”

“Thanks, Doc.”

The doctor winked at Brenna. “He won't be thanking me in a couple of minutes.” As he began stitching the wound, Ash swore between gritted teeth.

“Told you so.” Doc finished up his work and then handed Ash a pill. “Take this when you get home. Don't take it before you finish driving, though. It'll knock you for a loop.”

Ash sat up and felt the room spin for a moment. “No, thanks, Doc. I don't need anything that'll knock me out.”

“That's what they all say. Take it with you, and when you get home, swallow it. You'll sleep like a baby.”

Ash dropped the pill in his shirt pocket and slid off the table. “I'll think about it.”

“Don't take too long to think. That'll only add to your headache.”

Before Ash could object, the doctor was gone and off to the next examining room, and they could hear the sounds of a baby protesting loudly.

W
hen they walked to Ash's truck Brenna held out her hand. “I'll take your keys.”

He stopped dead in his tracks. “Why?”

“Because you've just had stitches. You shouldn't drive.”

“I didn't take the pill Dr. Mullin gave me.”

“I saw the way you swayed when you got off the examining table. You're not steady on your feet.” She poked a finger in his chest. “Hand me the keys.”

He thought about arguing, but the truth was, he was enjoying the fact that Brenna wanted to take control of the situation. It was rare when anyone argued with him, but in their youth, she'd always had plenty of opinions. It was one of the things he'd always loved about her.

Love.

The very word stopped him in his tracks.

It was too late for that. Too late for a lot of things.

“Okay. Suit yourself.” He opened the driver's-side door for her and handed her the keys before circling to the passenger's side. Then he shot her a teasing grin. “Want to fasten my seat belt for me, too, Mama?”

“I would if you were wounded, but you're just light-headed.”

“And it's all your fault.” He watched as she started the engine and backed out of their parking slot.

“It's my fault that you're dizzy?”

“I always get that way around you, Sunshine.”

At his use of the nickname he'd given her all those years ago, her fingers tightened on the steering wheel.

“Or have you forgotten the time I fell flat at your feet?”

She shook her head with a grin. “I haven't forgotten. You cracked your head falling out of a tree, and the next thing I knew you dropped to the ground and I couldn't get you to wake up. I was so scared I rode my horse at a full-out gallop all the way to your ranch and made your father come with me. By the time we got halfway there, you came riding across the meadow like nothing had happened.”

“As I recall, Pop was spitting mad at being dragged away from his chores on the whim of a girl named Sunshine.”

Brenna and Ash shared a laugh at the memory.

“And that's why I'm driving, and you're sitting. I don't want you passing out again.”

“I won't.” He lifted his right hand in the air. “Promise.”

They laughed together easily as the truck rolled along the highway.

“Want me to turn off at my place, or drive you to your ranch?”

He chuckled. “Then I'd just have to turn around and drive you back to yours.”

“You could always ask Whit or Griff to drive me back after I delivered you safely home.”

“Not a chance. They're up in the hills.”

“Okay.” She turned off the highway onto the single dirt lane leading to her ranch. “Don't say I didn't offer.”

As they pulled up in front of her house, Vern ambled out of the barn and headed their way, with Sammy racing ahead to yip and yap until Brenna climbed down from the truck to pick him up and cuddle him.

“Perfect timing,” Vern called out to Ash. “Got a water valve that's stuck out here in the barn. I've been working on it, but it needs more muscle.”

Brenna was already voicing her protest. “You shouldn't be doing anything strenuous. You could pull out those stitches.”

“I don't need to use my head for this. You heard Vern. He just needs my muscles.”

As he walked away Brenna stared after him. She'd give him that. In the past years, he'd developed some very sexy muscles.

Annoyed at the direction her mind was taking, she climbed the steps and let herself into the house. In the kitchen, while Sammy pounced on his food dish, she set about fixing something for dinner.

Ash knelt in the hay and studied the water valve.

He looked up at Vern, who was standing over him. “Got a pipe wrench?”

“Sure thing.” He handed over the wrench and watched while Ash strained to turn the pipe.

It didn't budge.

“How'd it get stuck?”

“I'm thinking it froze. We had a lot of freezing nights, and if there was moisture in the line, it probably froze and then expanded when it thawed.”

“You're lucky it didn't burst. You'd have had a mess in here.”

“Yeah.” The old man watched as Ash leaned into his work, until at last the pipe wrench inched forward.

Another few twists of the wrench and the valve opened, allowing water to spill into the bucket Vern had set beneath it.

“Bless you, Ash.” He reached into his toolbox for a towel and handed it over.

“Any time, Vern.” He glanced around the cavernous barn while wiping his hands. “Anything else you need some help with?”

Vern shrugged before saying, “If you don't mind. I've got a tractor needing repair, and I need to get it closer to the door so I can use the daylight to see what I'm doing.”

Ash looked toward the rafters. “What happened to your lights?”

“Shorted out. I've been meaning to work on the electrical, but first I need to get that tractor up and running.”

Ash followed the old cowboy across the barn to the spot where an ancient tractor was parked. After taking it out of gear, the two men leaned their shoulders against it until it started rolling. Both men were sweating by the time it rolled to a stop just inside the barn door.

Vern wiped his forehead with a handkerchief. “I thank you, Ash. This old machine's been worrying my mind for weeks now. If I don't get to the spring planting, those cattle will starve next winter.”

Ask sat down on an overturned bucket. “I know you had to let your wranglers go, except for the drifter…”

“Noah Perkins,” Vern said.

“Yeah. Do you think Brenna could afford a few more to lend you a hand?”

Vern shrugged. “I was lucky to get even one worker for so little pay. I had to convince him there was nothing much to do up in the hills except watch out for predators around the new calves. Anybody strong enough to do ranch chores signs on with the big ranches these days. Besides, I just can't ask Brenna to dig into her savings, Ash. I see how she watches every dime just to make enough to pay the taxes and keep this place going.”

“Does Brenna have any enemies that you know of?”

“Enemies? Brenna?” The old man looked at him as if he'd just sprung two heads. “Why would you ask such a question?”

Very quickly Ash told him about the incident in town. “I don't think it's a coincidence that it happened twice now. Chief Pettigrew asked if I have any enemies. But then he suggested that since both times I was with Brenna, this might have something to do with her instead of with me.”

The old man took a great deal of time putting his handkerchief back into his pocket. When he lifted his face, his eyes looked thoughtful. “Your daddy wasn't the only one who made a few enemies when he was alive.”

“Brenna's father?” Ash frowned. “He's been gone for years. You think somebody with a grudge with old Raleigh Crane would come after Brenna?”

The old man shrugged.

“What about Raleigh? Is he dead or alive?”

Vern shrugged. “Don't really know. Never heard one way or the other.”

Ash's eyes narrowed. “Wouldn't Brenna be notified if her father died?”

Another shrug. “I guess you'd have to ask her. But whether Raleigh Crane's dead or alive, I expect he's left behind a very long enemy list.”

“Or maybe, if he's still alive, he's the one with the grudge. Against Brenna.” Ash got to his feet.

As he and Vern walked from the barn, Brenna stepped out onto the back porch and called, “Supper's ready.”

When Ash started toward his truck Brenna called, “You're invited, too, Ash. It's just meatloaf and mashed potatoes, but I made enough for an army.”

His smile was quick. “That's great, because I can probably eat like an army.”

He followed Vern up the steps. Inside the two men rolled their sleeves and washed up before stepping into the kitchen.

Ash breathed in the wonderful aroma as Brenna opened the oven and pulled out the covered pan before transferring everything to a platter. A glance at the dog bed in the corner of the room showed little Sammy sound asleep after a day of exploring the barn.

The three of them gathered around the old wooden table.

As Ash reached for the platter, Brenna shook her head and turned to Vern, who caught her hand in his. Seeing them, Ash caught her other hand and fell silent as Vern said, “Bless this food, and these good people.”

Ash hoped his jaw hadn't dropped, but the sight of a weathered old cowboy saying a blessing over their food had caught him completely by surprise.

As they began passing around hot rolls, fresh from the oven, along with thick slabs of meatloaf and mounds of mashed potatoes, a strange feeling of being home washed over him.

He could still remember the look on Brenna's face whenever she'd joined his family for supper. It had been obvious to everyone that she loved being part of that big, noisy assembly. She'd bonded with his younger brother, and learned early on how to tease him as unmercifully as he teased her. As for Myrna, it was no secret that the old woman had fallen completely in love with the wounded little girl. Brenna Crane had become the granddaughter Myrna never had.

And now, this old cowboy had turned Brenna's tired ranch into a home with his very presence.

Vern cleared his throat. “Ash told me about that incident in town.”

Brenna buttered a roll. “I don't know what I'd have done if Ash hadn't pulled me to safety when he did.”

“So the chief thinks one of you has an enemy.”

Brenna nodded. “That's what he said.”

The old cowboy set aside his fork. “I never asked about your pa. Figured it was none of my business. But now I'm asking.”

Uncomfortable, Brenna took her time breaking off a piece of her roll. When she looked up, both Vern and Ash were staring.

“As a matter of fact, I got a letter from him. He said he's now in an assisted-living place somewhere here in Montana.”

“Where?” Ash demanded.

She shrugged. “All I got was a post office box number. He said the doctors told him that he's in the final stages of multiple organ failure. Heart, lungs, liver. He didn't know if I was still living on the old ranch, but he wanted me to know he was still alive, in case I wanted to send a letter or…some money to help him out.”

Ash and Vern exchanged a look, though neither of them asked the question uppermost in their minds.

Brenna clasped her hands in her lap, her appetite gone. “I sent both. A letter and a check, in case there was anything he needed.”

Hearing Vern's quick hiss of annoyance, she glanced over. “I know. I hated dipping into my emergency fund. But I wanted to do the right thing, and at least let my father know I forgive him before he leaves this world.”

“Did he ask your forgiveness?” Vern's tone sounded reproachful.

“Yes. He said he was sorry for all the things he'd done while he was drinking. I wanted to do the right thing and let him die in peace.”

“So you forgive him?” The words were spoken before Ash could stop himself.

She shrugged. “My mother said he used to be a good man until liquor took over his life. Then he turned into a mean drunk. Before she died, she told me she'd forgiven him in her heart, and she hoped one day I could do the same. I figured this letter, coming right out of the blue, was my last chance to make things right.”

“How long ago did you send the letter and check?” Ash asked.

“About three weeks ago.”

“And you've heard nothing else?”

She shook her head.

He reached over and caught her hand. “You've got a good heart, Sunshine. But now, with the timing and all, you've got to tell this to Chief Pettigrew.”

She shook her head. “I'd feel uncomfortable telling him what I've done. He…knows about the things my father did. He came to talk to us that summer before my father left us.”

“Did you tell Ira what your father had done to you?”

“I didn't have to. He knew.” She looked away. “The chief made me show him my back. Then he told my father that if he wasn't an officer of the law, he'd whip him with a leather strap until his back was as bloody and scarred as mine. He said he would ask a judge to swear out a warrant against him for child abuse. The next day, my father was gone and we never heard from him again.”

At that her cell phone rang, breaking the silence. Brenna pushed away from the table and spoke quickly. Afterward, she returned to the table.

“That was Chris. He's in town, and heard about the incident. He's pretty upset. He said he'll stop by later.”

Ash tamped down the quick flash of annoyance, reminding himself that Brenna's fiancé had every right to be concerned for her safety.

He got up and crossed the room, filled three cups with coffee, and passed them around. Next to the coffeemaker was a bakery box, sitting on a fancy plate.

He lifted the lid and glanced over with a grin. “I hope this is Rita's famous carrot cake.”

That had the smile returning to Brenna's lips. “It is.”

“Want me to slice it or would you rather do the honors?”

“I'll let you do it.” The smile slowly returned to her lips. “But see that you don't give yourself the biggest piece.”

“Me?” He touched a hand to his heart. “How could you even suggest such a thing?”

When he carried two stingy slices to each of them, and then a huge slice for himself, Brenna rapped his knuckles with her fork. Vern burst out laughing, while Ash, grinning from ear to ear, returned with second pieces for both of them.

Then, measuring his big slice against Brenna's two, he switched plates and began eating her portion.

She turned to Vern with a mock frown. “See? Mr. Brave-and-Noble-of-Heart just can't be trusted when it comes to sweets.”